So we left off the other day with Stan, “Luke,” and I heading back to our room to try to catch a little rest before Maia was born. The general consensus was that it’d be a few hours minimum before time to push.

Amber, Stan, and I had previously discussed her birth plan: who she wanted in the room, etc. She was great with us being in the delivery room up until it came time to push, but for obvious reasons, wanted only her mom in the room for the actual delivery.

We totally understood.

We asked Dana, the nurse, to wake us up and let us know when it was time for Amber to begin pushing so that we could be praying. She promised to do so.

So the lights went out around 10:40pm, Stan and Luke absolutely crashed, and I lay there. And lay there. And lay there. Eyes glued open. Emotionally, I felt peaceful. And excited. Just lay there and prayed for Amber and for our girl.

Sometime around 11:30 pm, the weirdest thing began to happen. My heart began to race. It was uncontrollable.

I wondered if this was what a panic attack felt like. I’ve never had one of those before, but I imagined they might be similar to what I was experiencing. I took deep breaths, psychologically and emotionally remaining calm, but simultaneously wondering what was going on with my body.

And, of course, wondering what was going on with Amber and Maia.

About 20 – 25 minutes into my heart-racing episode, I heard a baby cry for just a minute, and then it stopped.

It’s the other new baby on the hall. It has to be. It’s not Maia. There’s no way she’s here already. Not possible.

My heart rate eventually slowed down almost to normal. And as I lay there praying, a text message came in. It was 12:07 am.

Maia was here! The text was from Amber’s mom.

She said it had happened really fast, that she’d arrived at 11:52 pm, that Maia’s Apgar score was 8 out of 10, and that they’d come get us in a few minutes. And “Congratulations!”

I woke Stan up. “Babe, she’s here! She’s here!”

We both shot out of bed and into the hallway, where we ran into the nurse. She told us Maia had come so quickly that she hadn’t had a spare second to come let us know what was going on. She was concerned we’d be upset with her, but all we cared about was whether Maia was okay.

“She’s okay? She’s breathing okay? Everything’s okay?”

“Yes, she’s fine. Breathing well. Everything’s great. Amber’s great too. I’ll come get you guys in a few minutes.”

Sighs of relief somehow morphed into jumping up and down. “Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!!!!”

I was massively undignified.

I didn’t care.

We sat down in the hall, I tried to return to a somewhat dignified state, and we waited. Longest 5-ish minutes of my life.

Our “it’s after midnight and we’re exhausted but we couldn’t be morethankful/excited/joy-filled because we’re about to meet our DAUGHTER!!” faces.

Probably 5 minutes later, the nurse went back into the room and asked Amber if she was ready for us to come in. She was ready for me, but understandably wanted Stan to wait a few more minutes.

He graciously waved me on into the room to meet our girl.

Oh my goodness. I don’t have words.

I walked in and Maia was in the contraption they lay babies in right after they’re born. Anyone know what it’s called? With all the medical equipment to help resuscitate a baby if necessary (though no resuscitation was necessary for our girl)? Yeah. That thing.

And y’all, I’m sure I’m beyond biased. But this baby girl? She was stunning.

She was about 25 minutes old when I saw her for the first time.

I looked at her for a minute. Walked over to Amber. Gave her a hug. Told her she was amazing.

I’ve never meant anything more.

And I can’t remember for sure who handed her to me, but I ended up with our girl in my arms.

She’s real.

I think I was in shock. And in love. And overwhelmed. And ecstatic. And undone.

And I missed Stan.

He should be in here with us.

Just after I texted this picture to him…

My first time holding my daughter.

…Amber said she was ready for him to come in.

Sigh of relief. I called him and told him to come.

Maia was incredibly alert. Those first couple hours after her birth were so sweet.

Stan’s face here says it all.

Just in awe.

Amber held Maia off and on in that first hour or two, but mostly wanted us to hold her. We were so grateful, undone anew by her selfless love for her little girl.

And by her love for us.

After giving Amber a bit more time to connect with and hold her baby, we took Maia to our room as was the plan, so Amber (and Luke) could get a full night of rest.

By the time we all were finally headed (back) to bed, it was somewhere around 2:30 am.

I realized in the wee hours of the morning that the time frame during which my heart had been racing was the brief 20-30 minutes during which Amber had begun to feel the need to push, the nurse had come in, called the doctor who had to rush back over to our end of the hospital, and Maia was born. The cries I had heard had been our girl – her first cries.

I’m not sure why my body did whatever it was doing or why it happened exactly during the half hour in which our daughter was being born, in spite of the fact that I was unaware of what was happening just down the hall. But that’s how it happened. I find it so interesting.

Anyway, there was little to no sleep for us that night, with nurses in and out checking on Maia and doing routine hospital/new baby stuff. But it was okay with us.

We were just in love with our girl and in awe of her presence in our arms.

And even though Amber had given us zero reason to believe that she wasn’t completely committed to the idea of her baby girl growing up in our family, the facts loomed over our hearts just a little:

She still had to sign her rights over, and that couldn’t legally happen till Maia was over 12 hours old. Maia’s birth dad would have to sign as well, which is a whole ‘nother story. Soon.

Love the pictures and the story. This way I can be on the other side of the world and still feel a part of your story and your family. Love you all and I am so excited that you are taking time to just be together. Blessings!